Star Trek: Federation Installation Nine, Episode 18 Lights
by Captain of the Hanford
Summary: Christmas on Federation Installation Nine!


**LIGHTS, CAMERA, AGGURRRVATION!**

(On occasion I like to combine my story lines a little. As in this story.)

For the most part felines are slow to anger. When nature has endowed you with ten sharp claws and four long fangs, you quickly learn to be a little mellow. However, sometimes . . .

No matter how 'advanced' we humanoids think we are becoming, when you really get down to basics, our needs really have not changed in probably hundreds of millions of years. With few exceptions we all still require food, water, oxygen, a purpose in life, a safe place to be, a warm place to sleep, companionship or mate if you will and entertainment (and I am NOT referring to a ball of yarn!).

The last need comes in many forms both participatory and non-participatory. The non-participatory ones range from activities such as Earth's Shakespear's Merchant of Venus preformed by Ferangi to Klingons screaming and growling at each other and calling it Opera. A variant on the live story telling similar to what is experienced in the Merchant of Venus is what is causing me aggravation now. The variant is called Video. This business once had two competing and complementary components one called motion pictures and the other called television. Because of an old style communications network called the Internet and the forced switch to expensive HD TV receivers by greedy governments, the component called TV was, for the most part passé by Earth Date 2040. Movies on the other paw, after discovering a way to rid themselves of over priced, temperamental creatures called 'actors' continued. Expanding into productions for programs for what was the precursor of the HoloDeck, the Video Game and eventually into preprogramed HoloDeck simulations as well.

My average 'day' begins surprising mundanely for a creature that is suppose to be "Boldly Going" somewhere. After Morning Meal, I make my way to my office where I spend some time looking over and dealing with any items that might have appeared during the night that were NOT important enough for immediate action. These usually range from reports of minor problems with the mines or miners to routine bulletins transmitted by Starfleet Command. It was among those I found the following:

**ATTENTION: **Command, _**Federation Installation Nine**_

**SUBJECT: **Production of commercial HoloDeck simulation

Starfleet personnel assigned to _**Federation Installation Nine **_and _**U.S.S. Bastet**_, NCC-61456 are hereby ordered to assist in any reasonable way the production of a commercial HoloDeck simulation being produced in your sector. Specifics to follow.

"I'm sorry Sef.", Admiral Ball says after I finish running down a LONG list of why these orders are unwise, "I suspect someone in the production company has naked vids of some high ranking Starfleet official to rate such privilege but, there is little I can do. I know you will make the best of a difficult situation. Ball out."

Almost before Admiral Ball's image has faded, Communications is calling to inform me the head of the production company is calling and wants to arrange a meeting with my staff and I. Finding no way to avoid this annoyance, I order, "Put them through."

Although I tried, the head of the production company was adamant that the meeting should be held ASAP (an odd word, I had never heard it before but, that is what the human used), and since they were calling from Wrigley's Pleasure Planet an early evening meeting is setup for the next day.

I see that evidence for one of my strongest objections has manifested itself as I make my way to my office the next morning. _**FI-9 **_is a small place in the back waters of the Federation and because of the mix of Starfleet, Kzinti and civilian interests, I try and take a soft approach to commanding it. That means the station and its crew usually are a bit less shinny than one would see on a front line Starbase or Starship. This morning however, I am surprised to see many of my command in clean uniforms instead of the usual coveralls and many of the storefronts being brightened up. As I draw near, more than one of the proprietors quiz me about our impending visitors. Most show disappointment when they find out I have little more information to add to what they have already heard.

To add to the mix, now is the time according to the old Terran Calendar for a midwinter festival called Christmas. Among the strange trappings of this human celebration are mounting chains of small blinking lights everywhere and bringing a full grown, replicated conifer tree indoors and 'decorating' it with MORE small blinking lights!

Because of one particular aspect of the festival, all the stores of the Bazar display an over abundance of these decorations. As I understand it, for one to participate in the festival, one must spend all his yearly accumulated wealth on 'presents' for friends. Then one encases these 'presents' in brightly colored paper, emblazons the name of whom the item is for on the wrapping and places it under the decorated tree until the end of the festival. When I questioned Jacobs about the finer points of the celebration, I mentioned I did not understand why the humans wait for a festival to give gifts, Caitians and felines in general need no appointed time to give gifts to friends and family. She said, "I know." and continued saying something about small rodents and birds left at her quarter's front entrance by other felines she has known. Although she seemed a little disturbed by this, I wonder if she realized what an honor such gifts represent. After all giving away food you caught instead of eating it is a very difficult thing.

One item I am thankful for is the change in the length of the celebration. It started out as 12 days of festivities but, by the early 21st Century it had been stretched to more than 60 days of what many from that time called 'madness'. After many battles and deaths in places called 'Malls', the authorities considered banning the festival but a compromise was reached. The length of the festival was set to run no more than 21 days.

The representatives of Luck and Bill (Sef heard the name a little wrong, actually the company name is Luckenbill as in Lawrence Luckenbill, the son-in-law of Lucy Ball, cofounder of Desilou) Entertainment arrive in the afternoon and get settled into the V.I.P. quarters.

The meeting WAS scheduled for early evening and it is NOW much later! The humans that call themselves 'Producer', a Ms. Spears and 'Director' a Mr. Abrahams have yet to make an appearance. All my Senior Staff are in my office and ALL are not pleased by how this Producer and Director are treating us. Just before Security-Chief rises, mumbling something about 'bringing' them here, they arrive and with no explanation as to why they are late, after introductions, begin the meeting. One of the first things you note about this pair is their clothing. Until now, I thought the Ferangi dressed in the most outlandish of attire but, around a group of these Producers and Directors, the Grand Nagus would not be noticed! The Director wares a garment made from something called Polyester. Printed with an almost nauseating pattern of colored squares. Jacobs told me later the pattern is called Plaid. The Producer is barely covered at all by a tight fitting garment that leaves one wondering how she is able to move. They both have so many gold chains around their neck, I wonder how they can stand upright. Finally even though we are in a space station where all environmental factors have been set for the comfort of average carbon-based life-forms, they seem to have a need to shield their eyes with darkly tinted visors. They inform my staff and me that they are going to make a simulation about the Man/Kzinti 'Olden Days' using the station as a back drop.

Did I say meeting? It was more like a reading of a list of demands. Basically they want 'unlimited' access to the station with the 'full' assistance of 'all' personnel.

One advantage a felinoid has over a human is that our faces do not show subtle emotion, in fact with our 'permanent smile' unless you can read our tails you might not know what we are thinking. As our guests finish, I begin, "I have been ordered by Starfleet to assist yourrr endeavorrr in any reasonable way. I believe by allowing you on ssstation I have fulfilled that orderrr. NOW here are rulesss you WILL follow. Asss long asss you NOT interfere with normal operations of ssstation you may utilize any public area. If your activitiesss do interfere with orrr rrrestrict aspect of operation, you will have to get permission from all partiesss involved before continuing. If you wish to work in rrrestricted areas, you MUST make arraignmentsss with me and Security-Chief." The producer begins to say something but I silence her with a look. Continuing, "Starfleet and Kzinti personnel while on duty have important jobsss to do and will NOT be ordered to assist you. Off duty personnel can assist you if they wish asss long asss sssuch assistance doesss NOT interfere with on duty work. The exception to thisss isss Security-Chief and those underrr hisss command. They will have to provide sssecurity for you. Asss far asss arraignmentsss with civiliansss and civilian leased areas, asss long asss you NOT try and take advantage of them I have no involvement with that." "Now see here!", the Producer begins. But I cut her off, "That ISss way it going to be. NOW, my ssstafff and I have betterrr thingsss to do SO thisss meeting overrr!"

All file out and as Jacobs passes me, she comments, "If I read them right, someone's going to catch hell!" "I have caught rodentsss, birdsss and fleasss. Hell hasss NO chance with Caitian!", I answer with a swish of my tail. Jacobs smiles and winks and then disappears around the corner of the doorway, she knows me too well.

**Captain's Log, Star Date 448478.4:**

**We are on our way to a destination in the Federation we have never traveled to. The _Hanford _has been contracted to provide transportation to a Holoprogram production company. On board are the costumes, equipment and the people that will make the program. From what I understand this once was a glamorous, well-paying job. Now judging from what came on board it rates just above Tribble Groomer. But they paid in cash, in full and they have been no trouble so I'm happy. I'Aisha is quite pregnant now and we all are now experiencing all the problems from mood swings to morning sickness a humanoid female in this condition has. As soon as we deliver this group to ****_Federation Installation Nine _I plan to make for the Pa'UR's home world as fast as possible.**

Well the problems have begun! Almost before I finished my breakfast the Producer was calling to complain that the vessel carrying the company's equipment and technicians had NOT arrived and demanded that I send the _**Bastet **_out to search for it. Of course I refused that 'request' however after determining which shipping company they were employing I obtained the name of the vessel, the _**S.S. Hanford**_. Contacting her, I found out she would arrive sometime late tomorrow morning. I relayed this information to the Producer. She was NOT happy but I informed her there was nothing I could do to expedite the arrival. In addition, Jacobs, complaining that my office was NOT 'festive' enough insisted on putting a thankfully small 'Christmas Tree' in it. Over my protests of course. My main problem with it is the small, reflective globes of various colors that she used to adorn it. As I am working, I have found my attention inexplicably drawn to them as they reflect a stray ray of light or sway in response to a puff of unseen air. Once, when passing it, I had an uncontrollable urge to reach out and tap one of the globes slightly just to see it oscillate back and forth! I do not believe the fascination is unique to me either. I believe I saw Security-Chief paying an unusual amount of attention to the tree when he had a meeting with me about our current main problem. The things a commanding officer must endure to keep his crew happy!

**"What THAT?!", I'Aisha questions as she waddles onto the Bridge and begins to lower her pregnant mass into the chair at the Science Station. Assuming she is referring to the paw print like object that is starting to fill our Front View Port I reply, "That should be _Federation Installation Nine_." "I not like it!", I'Aisha says with a swish of her tail. "We won't be there long, as soon as we off load this traveling circus we'll be out of here! Edith Ann, contact the Station's Control Center and get clearance and instructions for orbit, it doesn't look like they have any docking facilities.", I order. As I do, I see I'Aisha's body uncharacteristically stiffen momentarily so I ask, "Are you ok." She nods but there is a pained, concerned look in her eyes.**

**Problems start almost before we have achieved a standard orbit. First neither of the people calling the shots are available to receive our passengers and cargo. I am told the Producer, Ms. Spears is in the middle of her daily four hour 'Rebirth Treatment' and the Director, Mr. Abrahams is in 'conference' and can't be disturbed. Apparently there have been no arraignments made for the accommodations of their 'People' or storage for their equipment. Most captains would have just dumped the lot in the station's common area and left but that is NOT my style. After waiting over an hour for Mr. Abrahams to contact me, Vader and I go looking for him.**

One of my most favored time of the day is what humans call "Lunch Time". If all is running smoothly, I have an hour or so to relax either in my quarters or at one of the station's eating establishments. Considering what was about to happen it was fortuitous I decided to eat in the Bazar today. It was not the uniformed human I noticed first although his uniform was interesting. It was the machine that was moving along side of him that caught my attention. I recognize it as a Service Mechnoid and from its markings I can see it is programed for Security Operations. Both human and Mechnoid moved with such force of purpose that I know I should see what their business is. "Welcome to _**FI-9 **_sssir. I am officerrr in charge, Commanderrr D'Sefet," I begin as I intercept the duo, "May I inquire asss to yourrr presence here and why you have brought thisss Mechnoid with you?" "I'm the Captain of the _**S.S. Hanford**_, Bolton's the name. Vader and I are trying to get hold of someone in charge of Luckenbill Entertainment. I have both cargo and personnel for the HoloDeck simulation they are producing." Captain Bolton goes on to tell me his problem. After trying unsuccessfully to contact either the Producer or Director, I convince Capt'n Don as he tells me to call him, to return his Mechnoid to his vessel and join me for lunch at the Long branch.

The place is crowded but we find two seats at the bar. Chester comes over and inquires as to what we are drinking. Although it is a bit early, I order a Squeak Ale and to my surprise, Capt'n Don says, "That sounds good, make it two." "I do not believe I have everrr encountered non-feline that enjoysss Squeak Ale.", I comment. "I'Aisha my mate introduced me to the beverage," Capt'n Don explains. Thinking he is 'felining' his vocabulary for my benefit I ask, "Mate? You mean Wife do you not?" "No, I'Aisha is a Pa'UR and I'm her mate.", he answers as the drinks arrive. Although the term is vaguely familiar, I question, "Pa'URrr . . ." "The Federation calls them Werecats.", Capt'n Don informs. "Oh . . . So you are mated to felinoid!", I say with surprise. "Yes and she is the reason I would like to contact someone from Luckenbill. She is expecting our first kit and I would kind of like to get her to her home world where her mother and grandmother, both doctors can help with the birth.", Capt'n Don says. I am sympatric to Captain Bolton's plight so I say, "I will have Security-Chief sssee if he can ssscare up sssomeone from Luckenbill Entertainment." "I would welcome anything you can do, thanks.", Capt'n Don says. "Security-Chief.", I call. "Security-Chief here D'Sefet-Commander.", Security-Chief answers. "Go sssee if you can encourage eitherrr of ourrr guestsss from Luckenbill to rrreport to my office asss they sssay ASAPpp.", I command, then turning to Capt'n Don a say, "We ssshould have rrresults sssoon." "Great!", Captain Bolton answers and then noticing a sign adds, "In keeping with the season, I'll buy us both an Eggnog while we wait!" I am not too eager to sample another manifestation of this Christmas thing but before I can refuse the drinks are ordered and arrive. The first thing I notice is that the liquid is an odd color, a light, opaque yellow. In addition, as I hold the glass I find it is very viscous. As I bring the glass to my mouth, my nose detects its smell, an unusual combination of milk and eggs. Contrary to what most believe, adult Caitians are NOT naturally drawn to milk but as I take a sip of the drink, I find I like it . . . VERY MUCH! Finally I think to myself, something good about this Christmas!

After we finish our Eggnog, we head for my office to await who ever Security-Chief 'scares'. We do not make it to my office. As the Turbolift doors open we are met by Security-Chief, carrying a body. I see a tail and for a second think it is Sarah but Captain Bolton corrects me by saying, "I'Aisha! What's wrong?!" Security-Chief answers, "I found this female staggering in the corridor near where the Producer and Director are quartered. As I approached her, she collapsed into my paws." The female opens her eyes and Captain Bolton asks, "I'Aisha, what are you doing here." "I look for you.", she answers before slipping back into semi-unconsciousness. "We need to ggget herrr to Sick Bay fast!", I order. "That IS what I am doing D'Sefet-Commander!", Security-Chief replies, frustration sounding in his voice.

We all hurry to Sick Bay, as we enter Doctor Selar sees us and directs to one of the Examination Beds. She is joined by Sarrah and as they begin tending the Werecat, Captain Bolton says, "That's my mate I'Aisha . . . She's pregnant!" Doctor Selar stops her work and with a lifted eyebrow answers, "Obviously, how far along is she?" "About nine months.", Captain Bolton answers. "The Data Base on this race is almost nonexistent.", Sarrah comments with irritation. "I have a Doctor on the _**Hanford **_that has some additional data.", Captain Bolton says. "Well get him down here NOW!", Sarrah commands. "Bolton to _**Hanford **_. . . ", Captain Bolton begins. "_**Hanford **_here.", a nasally voice replies. "Edith Ann, put me through to Vader.", the good Captain commands. "You not going to bring him down again.", I ask. "No . . . ", Capt'n Don answers. "What is thy bidding my master.", I hear the Mechnoid Vader ask in a low rumble. "Get Dickery and beam him down here immediately!", Captain Bolton commands, adding, "I'Aisha is in trouble!" "As you command my master but, what of the good Doctor's aversion to the Transporter?", Vader questions. "I don't care if you have to beam him down here in pieces.", Capt'n Don begins as my crew and I listen in stunned silence, "No . . . Wait, you would enjoy that wouldn't you. Just get him here . . . Functional. Bolton out."

A few precious moments later, Dickery appears in Sick Bay. "Damm it Jim! What's the idea of sending that Metal Mental Case Vader after me!", the 'Doctor' questions as, seeing the Werecat on the Examination Bed, goes to her side. "You're a robot.", Doctor Selar states with just a hint of emotion sounding in her voice. "MECHNOID thank you and you are a green blooded, pointy eared, hobgoblin madam. So what's your point if you will forgive the pun?", Doctor Dickery counters. "You are a Doctor!", Sarrah questions, her ears and tail displaying astonishment. "That's what's engraved on my Identification Plate Fluffy, what's your job?", Dickery questions. "I am Sarrah and I am training to be a doctor!", Sarah answers. "Where's Chapel when you need her! Well train somewhere else kitten, your tail is in my way.", the Mechnoid orders much to the amusement of Security-Chief.

Somehow all of this seems familiar to me. I go to Captain Bolton and ask, "Why doesss Mechnoid call you Jim." "I have no idea Commander. He has called me that since the day I took command of the _**Hanford**_. However, he IS a good doctor.", Capt'n Don answers.

"What are your qualifications Doctor," Selar demands. "I am programed to treat all known humanoid and animal afflictions with the most up-to-date procedures.", Doctor Dickery claims looking strait at Sarrah, "AND, my sensors tell me this Pa'UR is about to become a mother!" "But it's too soon Dickery! I thought we had another week at least.", Captain Bolton questions. "The baby's in command now.", Dickery says, and turning to Doctor Selar asks, "How far apart are the contractions." "Five minutes 45.5 seconds for the most recent one.", Selar reports, "But her heart rate and blood pressure readings are disturbingly elevated." "Maybe for a humanoid but not alarmingly high for a pregnant felinoid. Keep an eye on them though.", Dickery says, then after taking a few more readings, "Looks like we have a while to wait. Might as well get comfortable."

**As the minutes pass, the contractions get closer together and I can see that I'Aisha's pain level is increasing. While no one likes to see any creature in pain and when you're close to that creature the feeling is magnifies, the fact that I'Aisha still reminds me of a House Cat seems to enhance my discomfort even more.**

**Soon the Doctors are positioning and preparing I'Aisha for the birth. I'm at her side, doing what I can for her. However, owing to her sharp claws and teeth and what pain can do to a normally docile creature, I mostly just try to keep my scratchable and bitable parts out of the way. Looking around I'm surprised to see no one has left, both Commander D'Sefet and Security-Chief are standing around. I consider asking them to leave but neither I'Aisha or the Doctors seem concerned so I keep quiet.**

**After a while, Sarrah reports, "It looks like she is fully dilated." Dickery, after checking Sarrah's observation adds, "Get ready for baby!" With the Earth Cats I have known, when they start, if every thing is ok, birth usually is a short process. I guess that isn't so with 'Cat Women'. After almost a half an hour I'Aisha is still in labor and becoming more exhausted by the minute. Then, with one last contraction and push the Kit is ****born. "Looks healthy.", Dickery observes. "All SCANS show normal DOCTOR.", Doctor Selar reports as she stares at Dickery. Sarrah takes the kit and after cleaning it, places it on I'Aisha's chest. I'Aisha tries to get the Kit to nurse but it seems uninterested. Somehow picking up on both I'Aisha and my concerns, Sarrah says, "Give him a minute." "Yes.", Dickery adds, "He's just arrived in a new world!"**

**Minutes tick by but the Kit doesn't move or make a sound. I can sense all the Doctors are puzzled as they all continue to scan the Kit. I can sense their concern and I know that if I can most certainly I'Aisha has. As I stroke I'Aisha's fur on her cheek, Doctor Selar scans the Kit again as does Dickery. Sarrah asks, "Security-Chief go get Annah!" As the Kzinti leaves Sarrah explains, "Annah is my mother, she might have some suggestions on getting the Kit to nurse." Presently Security-Chief and a Kzinrret I assume is Annah return. Annah gently picks the Kit up, looks it over and then puts it back on I'Aisha's chest, watching it all the while. She then takes Sarrah aside and speaks to her in a hushed tone. All I can make out are the words, "not good". All can tell the Kit is getting weaker. I'Aisha looks at me, her eyes pleading for me to do something.**

**Doctor Selar takes the listless Kit from I'Aisha and gently places him into a Life Support Chamber saying, "Putting him in here will give us a little time to come up with other alternatives." Everyone is out of ideas, the joy of birth is becoming a death watch when HE enters the Sick Bay. It takes a moment but I recognize him . . . He or should I say IT was once a passenger on the _Hanford_, the man/vessel from a planet called Lilln, masquerading as a Vulcan called Smuel. "Perhaps I can be of assistance.", Smuel begins as he goes to the silent Kit lying unmoving in the Life Support Chamber. After a moment he goes over to I'Aisha and as I hold my breath hoping she doesn't recognize him, he whispers something to her. I'Aisha's eyes grow wide, throwing off her ****cover, she jumps from the bed and rushes to the Kit. Before anyone knows what is happening, with her bare claws she rips open the Life Support Chamber and takes the Kit in her arms. Vigorously she rubs the Kit's hind quarters and buttocks. In just seconds, the Kit's bowels move for the first time and he begins to squirm and emit healthy mewing sounds. All the doctors gather around I'Aisha and the Kit, Doctor Selar activated a Tricorder and reports, "His life signs are stable and growing stronger now." As all attend to I'Aisha and the Kit, I see Smuel quietly leaving. Hurrying, I catch up with him a short way down the corridor. "Can I speak with you a moment Doctor.", I ask. Stopping and turning Smuel answers mater factually, "Of course Captain. What is on your mind?" What's on my mind I think as I look at the one that has just saved my child! I want to shake his hand, hug him, buy him whatever he uses for fuel! All I can think to say is, "You just saved my Kit, how can I ever repay you?" "A long time ago Captain you assisted us in our time of need. We are a doctor, it was only logical that we assist you.", Smuel answers, playing his role as a Vulcan to the hilt. "But . . . I . . .", I stammer. "Your mate and Kit needs you Captain . . . Go to them.", he says as he turns and disappears down the corridor.**

**When I return to Sick Bay, I'Aisha is holding our Kit in her arms, giving him his first meal and purring him a Pa'UR lullaby. Looking at my 'wife' and new son I recall something. When we transported the Master A' Dom to his home world to die the other Master we were contacted by said:**

**Now, we understand that like it once was with our pets, it is customary to reward those who serve well, like you, in some way.**

**I refused his offer by saying what I did for A'Dom was done in kindness but he also:**

**Turning to I'Aisha, he continues, "We already know what is closest to this little one's heart and, we tell her it WILL come to pass."**

**"This was the reward the Master promised you!", I say to I'Aisha. I'Aisha shoots me one of her coy looks, paws me my son and says, "Merry Christmas Master Don!"**

**"Who was that man that helped and where did he go.", Doctor Selar asks. "That was a Vulcan doctor named Smuel," I answer. "That Smuel!", I'Aisha exclaims. As I nod, Commander D'Sefet asks, "Where did he commme frrrom? Wasss he passsengerrr onnn yourrr ssship?" "Once but not this time.", I answer, "He must have already been here." Consulting a Padd, Security-Chief says, "There is NO record of a Doctor Smuel's arrival on _FI-9_." "Wherrre did hhhe gggo, "Commander D'Sefet questions looking at me. I just shrug my shoulders as I consider how and why Smuel just happened to be here at this time and whether somewhere close by there is or was an undetected Pa'UR vessel.**

Christmas has thankfully come to an end I am thinking as I sit in my office a few days later. The people from Luckenbill Entertainment are happily, I think, going about their business. So far without stepping on anyone's toes that I have heard of anyway.

The _**S.S. Hanford **_with her new crew member christened Patrick Roo, following the Pa'UR tradition of naming the first born son after the Grandfathers or Great Grandfathers, is on its way to the Pa'UR world so he can be introduced to all his family. The mysterious Doctor Smuel has not been seen again. I believe Captain Bolton knows more about this Vulcan than he said.

Complaining that my office walls were too bare, Jacobs presented me with a large framed picture of an Earth Lion, Leopard and Tiger entitled "The Wild Cats". Although as I have said, Caitians need no specific time of year to give presents, I had gotten an old style Starfleet device on a recent trip to add to one of Jacobs many off duty interests, collecting and restoring ancient tools and instruments so I choose this time to give it to her.

As it seems with Human holidays just a week after Christmas is finished another festival begins. Those that participate in such things are busily preparing for what is called "New Years Eve" even though it has no meaning millions of miles from the star system where it began. One aspect of this celebration does seem appealing, At exactly zero hours zero minutes zero seconds on what is called "New Years Day" males and females are expected to nuzzle . I think I will see if Sarah would like to be with me around that time.


End file.
